


all thoughts, all passions, all delights.

by Kt_fairy



Series: let the river rush in [5]
Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, James fitzjames almost in a dress, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:07:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21605782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kt_fairy/pseuds/Kt_fairy
Summary: “Why are you blushing so?” James asked quietly, and Francis felt his ears heat as he met James’ knowing gaze.Some days he felt that it was a marvellous thing to be known so well and so fully, and other days he thought it was damned inconvenient.“Something I was thinking of.”“Thinking ofdoing?” James encouraged gently, dark eyes bright with interest as he pressed his palm to Francis’ side.
Relationships: Captain Francis Crozier/Commander James Fitzjames
Series: let the river rush in [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1458220
Comments: 22
Kudos: 129





	all thoughts, all passions, all delights.

**Author's Note:**

> Listen okay, it's my birthday next week and I'm feeling self indulgent. Also MsKingBean89 basically dared me. So here we are.

"Well, is that the latest fashion?”

James craned his head back, then twisted to smile up at Francis from where he was kneeling in a pool of daylight in the middle of the floor surrounded books and sheets of paper, dip pen clutched in his ink stained fingers.

"It is when one is losing one's mind," James declared with a flourish at his ensemble of polished shoes, _very_ well tailored cream trousers, discarded cravat, and a copper-red silk lady’s day bodice that was half undone - a splash of colour in the wood panelled, masculine study. “I dare say I’d cut a dash, eh?”

“You will certainly make an impression if you attend George Backs’ tonight in such attire…”

“I am _sure_ I would.”

“...it would make the _Gentleman’s Gazette._ If not the _Times_ ,” Francis observed, glancing at the papers as he stepped over them. "Is it going well?"

"Terribly," James said as he sat back on his heels, pointing at each pile of papers as he spoke. "The reference for Jopson's lieutenants examination, the few words for the unveiling of the memorial in Greenwich, a fair few _more_ words for the Admiralty about the state of our provisions and charts, a letter to the youngest Barrow about the former, and - so I do not in fact go mad - a silly poem for William's children."

"A light afternoon's work."

"I shall have ink embedded in my nails until…" James cocked his head as he looked over Francis. "What do you have hidden behind your back?"

"Who is to say I have anything?" Francis said with perfect nonchalance, smiling when James raised his eyebrows at him.

"I can smell flowers, and you, my darling, have never been one for scents."

Francis flushed like he always did when James used endearments so casually, but did not relent. “You do not know where my business might have taken me today.”

James adjusted so he was facing Francis more fully, trying not to smile as he raised his eyebrows expectantly.

Francis had treated the flowers as if they were made of the most delicate glass in the cab home, and James took them from him as if he were being handed a child, taking care to not crease the brown paper they were wrapped in. 

“ _Oh_ ,” he breathed, face brightening as he ducked his head to sniff the delicate Indian jasmine that always pleased him so, then some fragile many petalled floral that Francis had been informed was a gardenia, before touching the bright oxeye daisies that made him smile. “Why..” he gasped, then peered at Francis from under his lashes. “Why, are you trying to court me, sir?”

“Can I not do things just to please you?” Francis said gently, nodding to the papers spread over the carpet. “Especially when you are working so hard for the good of others.”

“I hardly think I shall do a great deal of good, the Admiralty are rather adept at ignoring things - but I shall not be ungrateful,” James turned a beatific smile on Francis, reaching out to give his trouser leg a gentle tug. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Francis nodded, stepping back over the papers to drop into the chair that James had abandoned for the study floor. “And I have never consulted the Language of Flowers, so whatever it says is not intentional.”

“Good! Damned if I know what a shrub ought to mean,” James scoffed. “I have not been much in the business of receiving floral gifts, but I think the weight should be on the thought behind it rather than some overwrought message.” 

“I picked them because I know you like flowers that smell nice, and the girl in the shop suggested the daisies. So I am sure they top off the general…” he waved his hand in the air to give his meaning, and James grinned at him. 

“You great romantic, you.”

Francis had never been one for this sort of sentimental behaviour. Had never felt the need for it until Sophia, who in turn had not been overly fond of flowers or quaint romanticism's. As he watched James gently touch a pure white petal before ducking his head to smell the jasmine again, a pleased smile bright on his face, Francis found he understood all the efforts young men always put into gifts and poems and sweet gestures for their beloveds.

“As long as you like them.”

“They are very fine, as befits a fine gen’leman fer ‘is luvah,” James said in a strangled approximation of an east end bobtail, then laughed at himself. 

“I shall take that as a yes.”

“A firm and gleeful yes,” James smiled, eyes trailing over Francis once more before carefully setting the flowers aside. He flicked closed the pot of ink and placed it back on the desk along with his pen, then shuffled over on his knees to lean against Francis’ legs, hands planted flat on his thighs. “I had not realised I had spent so long caught up in ink and appropriate words, and I am very pleased that you thought of me while you were out being a man of the world.”

“Of course,” Francis ran his fingers down the wonderfully soft silk of James’ dainty sleeve. “You’re doing noble things that will not see you thanked by many - especially when it comes to the tinned provisions. The least I can do is think of you.”

James caught his fingers up with his own, pressing his lips to Francis’ knuckles as he slipped between his knees. “You might do more than merely think of me,” James murmured as he sat up to press a kiss to his jaw. “And I might do more to show my gratefulness,” he said, passing his lips over Francis’ mouth before taking his face in his warm hands to kiss him.

Francis grasped James’ elbow and pulled him in closer, setting his hand on the smooth dip of his waist that was accentuated by feminine tailoring even without the help of stays or corsetry. He had no preference for any way James chose to dress, he liked him very well for more than his clothes, but he did appreciate whenever his fine figure was highlighted, or his long, pale throat was as bare as it was now.

He traced his thumb over the bob of James’ Adams apple as he cupped his neck, sitting forward slightly when James opened his mouth to deepen the kiss. James pressed a hand to Francis’ knee, squeezing it firmly before smoothing it up his thigh, running his nails along the inside seam of his trousers as he arched into Francis, pressing his stomach firmly against his groin.

His weight was wonderfully warm and solid, and Francis felt James smile against his mouth when the effect it had on him became apparent, his fingers walking up the buttons of Francis’ fly to tuck into his waistband. 

Francis pulled away with a gasp, trailing kisses along James’ cheekbone while the top button on his fly was popped open. “I have been doing so much good with my words,” James whispered. “I might do you some good with my mouth?”

Francis felt warmth run all the way through him then, like it always did when James was so elegantly filthy, and he let the hand drop from James’ waist to rest on his backside. “Or we might go upstairs?”

“Or we might indeed,” James grinned. “If you will give me five minutes?”

"Gladly," Francis murmured, letting his hands smooth down James' legs when he stood, squeezing his calves as James bent to give him another firm kiss. “I’ll entertain myself by finding somewhere to put those flowers.”

“Good man.”

James strode lightly from the room, throwing Francis a knowing look when he got to the door that was no doubt to do with the damned distracting fashionable cut of his trousers.

Francis waited for the door to click close before he stood. He adjusted himself in his trousers so his appearance was not quite so lewd, and scooped up the flowers before making his way into the drawing room where there was a surfeit of vases dotted about on all the side tables. 

He had worked out - in vague terms - why James always needed a few minutes before they engaged in anything of this sort. It all still felt an awful lot like when Miss Cracroft used to whisper to him about when to leave a room after her for an assignation, or where to take a walk about the gardens of the Governor's house in Hobart so they might run into one another someplace out of sight. 

The secrecy was the same as it had been with Sophia, Francis mused as he removed some neat carnations from their vase to replace with James' flowers, even if the illicit nature did not excite James like it had her. The emotions between them were more gentle and steady than the whirlwind of emotions that had passed between Francis and Sophia, were built on foundations forged of a sturdier thing than reckless desire. That was not to say they lacked passion; James was certainly fond of putting his mouth on Francis, more so than Sophia had been. The lady much preferred to have Francis’ attentions on her, and he almost blushed to remember how he had liked to do it for her.

It wouldn’t do to dwell on a past lover when he had his current one waiting for him upstairs (a decadence that the Crozier of ten years ago would have been horrified in himself for) and Francis tried not to think about any of the noises she would make, or how she would grasp at his hair to pull him closer as he made his way up the stairs to James’ neat bedroom. 

He was sitting cross legged and trouserless on the end of his smartly made bed, his hair gently tousled where it fell around his flushed cheeks, the bodice unbuttoned to reveal the thin cotton shirt he was wearing underneath. 

“Hope I haven’t kept you waiting?” Francis asked coyly as he went to place the vase of flowers on James’ dressing table.

“Oh it’s felt like _hours_ ,” James said with a dramatic sigh. He slumped sideways against a finely carved bedpost, curling his hand around it while he watched Francis shrug off his coat and remove his pocket watch as he toed off his shoes. 

Francis unbuttoned his waistcoat as he crossed the narrow room to stand before James who straightened at once, kicking his long legs to tuck his ankles around Francis’ calves and pull him closer, one of his hands finding its way inside of Francis’ waistcoat as his ink stained fingers slipped into his hair. Francis braced his knee against the deep mattress, ready for James to tip backwards and drag Francis down on top of him while kissing him soundly.

“Why are you blushing so?” James asked quietly instead, and Francis felt his ears heat as he met James’ knowing gaze.

Some days he felt that it was a marvellous thing to be known so well and so fully, and other days he thought it was damned inconvenient.

“Something I was thinking of.”

“Thinking of _doing_?” James encouraged gently, dark eyes bright with interest as he pressed his palm to Francis’ side. 

“Well I...well,” his fumbling words peaked James’ interest further, and Francis sternly reminded himself that he was a rough, foul mouthed sailor speaking to another sailor, and that they had both certainly heard worse than this. “Some women take great pleasure when men use their mouths on them,” James looked amused at that but did not interrupt. “And you hear rumours about what some men have been caught doing, made vile because of, well…”

Both James’ eyebrows shot up as he straightened. “Are you...did you? To...”

“I enjoyed doing it, yes,” Francis admitted, beginning to feel slightly mortified.

“Francis!...and you want to... _oh_ ,” James was flushing now, and passed his thumb over Francis’ bottom lip carefully. “It’s been an awfully long while since anyone has done that to me.”

James’ drunken voice from a few weeks ago sounded in Francis’ head then - _they’ve taken the past two thousand or so years to perfect the act of buggery in the eastern Med, you know_ \- and found he did not much like the thought of some Greek being quite that intimate with James. 

“That is easy enough to rectify,” Francis said, pressing his lips to the pad of James' calloused thumb, the heel of his hand, then pushed the dainty lace of his cuff back to kiss the delicate skin on the inside of his wrist. 

James' was breathing deep and unsteady when Francis looked at him again, something that was almost nervousness flicking through his eyes. It was only there for a moment, being replaced by one of his beautiful soft smiles that Francis had to kiss as his waistcoat was slipped off his shoulders. 

  
  


James’ back was smooth and golden warm, and had been without flaw until bullets and animal claws had left scars that had been twisted and left deadened by scurvy. He had told Francis that he could still feel the pressure of touch in those places, and James’ sigh of contentment as Francis traced over the jagged raised line between his shoulder blades was just as lovely as his helpless laughter when Francis had helped tug the tight bodice sleeves down over his hands, or his moans and gasps as they had traded kisses while shedding their remaining clothes.

“I should think you have me memorised quite well by now,” James commented lightly, eyes sparkling as he settled his cheek on the pillow his arms were wrapped around. 

“Do not try and have me shower you in flatteries,” Francis murmured as he tucked James’ hair behind his ear to kiss his cheekbone. “Flowers are about as much courtly behaviour as I can manage in a day.”

James snorted, turning enough to catch a kiss on the corner of his mouth before dropping his head back down. “And I love you dearly for it.”

Francis pressed a return of the declaration to the back of James’ neck, then down the sweep of his shoulder as he ran a hand down James’ bare flank to make him twist and laugh.

He took his time kissing down the long line of his back, savouring the wonderful warmth of James’ skin and each divot of muscle or bump of bone he came across, drawing a gasp from James when he kissed around the scar in the middle of James’ spine where that Chinese bullet had been dug out of him. Francis curled his hand over the dip of James’ waist while he lavished attention on the elegant curve of his lower back until James shifted, hips pressing down into the crisp sheets as he shifted his legs apart to give Francis room to kneel between them.

“ _Christ,”_ Francis heard James breathe into the pillow as he dropped kisses to the dimples just above the swell of James’ backside. He could feel a thrum of anticipation come from James, of nervous excitement, and smoothed his hands down his hips to press his thumbs into the crease where his arse met his legs and ducked down to kiss the backs of his thighs. 

James let out a rather pleasing squeak of surprise that turned into a low noise of pleasure when he pressed his thumbs in more firmly. The sound went straight to Francis’ prick that twitched against his thigh, and he gave it a quick tug before resting his hands over James’ pert backside.

“All right?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m...” James pushed up onto his elbows, his shallows breaths shifting the plain’s of his back delightfully as he ground out. “Bloody _hell_...yes!”

James was so long that Francis’ legs almost hung off the end of the bed as he shouldered James’ thighs further apart. He smoothed his fingers over the silky soft, untouched skin of his inner thighs before grabbing his backside in both hands, sitting up slightly as he slipped his thumbs between his buttocks and pulled them apart. 

James gasped and buried his face into the crook of his elbow, digging his knees into the soft mattress when Francis stroked a finger over his hole, pushing back into the familiar sensation.

Nothing Francis had done up to this point had been wholly out of the ordinary for them. It was the expectation of what Francis was to do next that had a shiver run through James and made Francis’ cock ached where it was pressed against the sheets.

It was not the same as with a woman - Francis had never expected any of this to be - but he had learnt that having someone trembling with restless anticipation felt the same no matter the sex of his bed partner.

“So lovely,” Francis whispered against the skin at the base of James’ spine as pressed a lingering kiss there. 

James shuddered at the praise. He drew a breath to no doubt tell Francis to hurry up, and it became a choked gasp when Francis ran the flat of his tongue from his apples to his tailbone.

James tasted of his orange flower soap and clean water. Francis much preferred the taste of skin, but had to concede that exceptions had to be made owing to what part of the deck he was swabbing.

“Oh _God -_ Fr...I nev... _oh._ ”

James seemed at a slight loss for words, which Francis took to be a good sign as he really had little idea what he was doing. His tongue was rather out of practice, but it remembered the old paths it used to take over more _involved_ areas than this, and he had James’ enthusiastic reactions to lead him.

James cried out when Francis rolled his tongue over the circle of muscle before sucking on it lightly, the sound so high pitched Francis paused to check he was well. James rocked his hips back instantly, so Francis did it again. And again. And again until his jaw began to ache and James was moaning freely into the pillow he had clamped to his face. 

Everything was slick with spit when Francis sat back to catch his breath and stretch out the crook in his neck. He rubbed his finger over James’ hole, finding there was enough give for him to slip the digit in to his knuckle. 

James choked, kicking his feet up into the air when Francis pressed a second finger in and pushed them deep enough to stretch him. “Easy,” Francis soothed, tugging James’ hips up as he twisted his fingers just so.

“I’ll give you _easy_ , you...”

“You are a delight like this. So good.” Francis murmured, trailing his free hand down James’ back that was glistening with sweat. “Beautiful.”

“ _Oh meu doce cristo,”_ James panted, pushing himself up onto his elbows to let his head hang loose between his trembling shoulders as Francis pulled his fingers from him.

He whined high in his throat when Francis ran the flat of his tongue over him again, James falling silent when Francis flicked his tongue against his hole, considering if trying to breech him this way would be a lewd act too far when James tensed. 

Francis pulled back, concerned, and almost got smacked in the face when James’ flung his hand out to him. He took it immediately, letting James sink his nails into the back of his hand as a great shudder ran through him. “I f- I fear I shall fly apart,” James admitted in a small voice. “This is...enough.”

“Of course,” Francis murmured, kissing James’ lower back when he squeezed his hand. “You are all right, James?”

“Yes,” James panted, tossing his hair out of his flushed, sweaty face to peer back over one trembling shoulder, his eyes dark and deep as they trailed down over what he could see of Francis in his undone shirt and rolled up sleeves. “More than all right,” he swallowed, letting his head drop as he sucked in deep breaths until he calmed. “Francis?”

“Yes.”

“Is - well, is your prick hard?”

Achingly so, embarrassingly so. Francis settled for a simple “Yes.”

“Then put it in me for christ sake.”

James braced himself against the headboard while Francis searched out what they used to ease the way, his ink stained nails digging into the green damask as Francis curled his slick fingers into him, letting out a low contented sound when Francis replaced them with his prick. 

He had one hand on James’ arse and the other curled around his hip for the first few thrusts that had James’ breath catching in his throat. He was tugging himself off, Francis could tell by the shifting of his shoulder blades under his soft skin, rocking back against Francis’ cock in time with his fist moving over himself. 

The room was filled with the slap of Francis’ hips against James’ firm backside and the wet sound of James working his own prick, with their panting and grunts and James moaning as beautifully as he always did, the much used bed valiantly trying not to creak as the headboard rattled just out of time with Francis buggering James as firmly as he liked. 

Francis tipped forward to hide his grunts and gasps into James’ shoulder when he let go, his hips stuttering gracelessly out of time. James groaned, a ripple of tension running through him before he melted, sighing, “Jesus _Christ_ Francis,” with perfect gentleness.

  
* ***** *

An odd combination of stuffy heat and the cold of absence woke Francis. He sighed, kicking off the heavy blanket as he let his arm fall into the empty space where James had been. He could not have been asleep long, he could feel his hands and face were still damp from where he had washed them, and the texture of James’ tooth powder was still thick in his mouth, but his head felt heavy and his eyes dry as he blinked them open. 

He stretched, enjoying the satisfying aches in his body, and lay a moment watching the play of lamp light against the high ceiling before turning his head to look at James. He was standing with his hip resting against this dressing table, his dressing gown pulled loosely around him and his untidy hair tucked behind his ear, revealing the flush on his cheeks and his expression of gentleness as he looked at the vase of inexpertly arranged flowers that were so bright and white against the pale green wallpaper. 

James must have sensed eyes on him as he glanced over at Francis and smiled softly. “He lives,” James’ dry voice cracked and he cleared his throat, passing a waxy leaf between his fingers before moving back towards the bed. He clambered onto the mattress with the help of a bedpost, settling gingerly onto his side as he propped himself up against the headboard. “I am loathe to get up again, but we have that dinner at Back’s…”

Francis groaned in protest at the mere thought of enduring George bloody Back and his tireless roistering after all that pleasantly exhausting activity, and was sorely tempted to roll over and bury his face into a lumpy down pillow.

“You can be unhappy at the prospect. _I_ shall have to somehow sit at the table without looking as if I have piles.”

Francis barely held in a laugh, pressing his lips together as he glanced up at James who’s face were bright with amusement. He passed his fingers through Francis’ hair, unconsciously neatening it before curling over to kiss him softly. 

“I knew that soft Irish mouth of yours was prone to filthiness, but _my word_ ,” James murmured against Francis’ lips before kissing him once again.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> SO. Yeah....
> 
> In case you are wondering, I did look up the flower meanings on a Language of Flowers site. Cause I couldn't not waste half an hour on that, could I?
> 
> Indian jasmine - attachment  
> White Gardenia -loveliness  
> Daisy -loyal love.
> 
> A dress reference!! The bodice is inspired by [this lovely dress](https://pin.it/43ktohgwzbbfjz). But just imagine it long sleeved.
> 
> My tumblr is [pianodoesterror](www.pianodoesterror.tumblr.com) if you want to come and say Hi. I mostly just reblog Fitzjames so...


End file.
